Wibbly-Wobbly Water Balloons
by SaltiQuill
Summary: Prompt: "Just for fun, the Eleventh Doctor and Amy would occasionally pop back in time and drop water balloons on his former incarnation and Donna. Hilarity would ensue." Well...hilarity, confusion, and a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey...stuff. The alien crash is just the icing on the cake. Three-parter.
1. Part 1

_Wow, it feels good to write again! This was originally supposed to be a quick, little, thousand-word one shot based off a prompt from who-knows-where, but then it kinda...grew. A lot. This will probably end up a three-parter...you know, eventually. Until then, enjoy part 1!_

My aim is to improve; so criticism, critiques, and (well, any sort of review actually) would really be appreciated!  
(aka please review!)

**Prompt:** _"Just for fun, the Eleventh Doctor and Amy would occasionally pop back in time and drop water balloons on his former incarnation and Donna. Hilarity would ensue."  
_

* * *

**"Wibbly-Wobbly Water Balloons" (part 1)**

"Pond! When you were a little girl, what did you and your friends do for fun?"

The unexpected voice from below the console platform caused Amy to snap out of her train of thought. She wiped a stray tear off of her face—why was she crying?—and cleared her throat. "Um, what?"

The Doctor poked his head up from below the TARDIS console, his brown bangs plastered to his forehead and a pink tennis ball clutched in hand. "You. And your friends. Fun. What did you do?"

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" she asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips. She had been pulling that particular expression quite often lately; but then again, the Doctor had been acting _really_ weird lately. "Because the last time you did that we ended up fighting invisible monsters with Vincent Van Gogh."

"Of course I'm trying to make you feel better, Amelia, now answer the question." The Doctor jumped up onto the main platform, joining Amy against the railing and tossing the tennis ball restlessly in his hands. "And in my defense, I didn't originally intend to visit good ole' Vincent. I saw the painting, and the trip sort of... happened."

"Don't they all?" Amy asked, smirking slightly.

The Doctor paused. "Oh, shut up," he said, before staring at the tennis ball with a furrowed brow—as if he had never seen it before. His gaze suddenly shot back to her as he randomly chucked the ball somewhere behind him. "Anyways, you still haven't answered. What did you and your little friends get up to in Leadworth?"

"Believe it or not, most of what we did revolved around stories about you," she replied with a laugh. She then noticed his expression, narrowing her eyes. "Don't give me that look, mister!" she exclaimed, slapping him.

He rubbed his arm good-naturedly, trying (and failing) to wipe a smug smile off of his face. "Well, besides _that_," he amended. Amy decided to play along, and began to wrack her brain. She hummed slightly—what were some antics she had got up to as a kid?

"Oh! There _was _this one time, we must've been fourteen or so, that we filled up a bunch of water balloons and hid up on…." She trailed off, furrowing her brow. "Whose roof was it?" she asked herself. She spent a moment in thought, before shrugging. "It must've been Melody's. Anyways, so when people would walk by, we would drop the balloons down and see who had the best aim. The neighbors were furious, and once the person walking by was actually _Rory,_ and I hit him right in the—Doctor, are you okay?"

For the Doctor's eyes had grown huge. "What did you say?" he whispered.

She frowned. "I asked if you were okay."

"No, no." He turned to face her, hands gripping her biceps. His gaze bored into hers. "Before that. This is so important, Amelia, so, _incredibly_ important. _Who did you drop that water balloon on?"_

She looked at him in confusion, sliding out of his grip. "Melody. I said Melody, right? It was a straight shot too, soaked her to the bone! She was so mad at me…" she trailed off, laughing softly. "Good times."

"Good times," the Doctor repeated in a whisper, seeming to deflate at her words. His eyes stared vacantly into the distance, shoulders slumped as though his highest hopes had been suddenly shattered.

But a moment later, he had pushed off the railing as energetic as always, leaving Amy to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

"Well, Pond," he announced, cranking a lever on the console. The TARDIS jerked. "How would you like to toss some more of these so-called water balloons?"

She pulled a face, banishing her thoughts of a melancholy Doctor—sending them to the dark corner alongside suicidal painters and cracks on bedroom walls. "What, seriously?"

He gave her a grin, latching onto the console as the TARDIS gave another violent stutter. "Why not? I've never done it before, and you know what I say about new things!"

She grinned back, waltzing up next to him. "And what do you say about new things?"

He opened his mouth, before pausing and snapping it shut. He tried again, thrusting a triumphant finger in the air, before frowning. Finally, he turned to her with a scowl. "I said _you_ know what I say about new things. I _never_ said _I_ know."

Amy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a yell of surprise as the TARDIS jerked to the side. "Bit—woah!—bumpy, isn't it?" she asked, raising her voice to compete with the engine's loud whirring. The flight only grew worse, shifting from side to side like a tilt-a-whirl on steroids. Sparks emitted from the panel, causing the Doctor to retract his hands with a string of alien words. "What are you trying to do?!" Amy yelled, gripping the console with white knuckles.

"It's…..just…London!" he exclaimed, pushing buttons and pulling levers frantically. He grabbed the scanner, holding on for dear life. "Why…..won't…..she…..land?!"

Nearly a minute later, the bucking and jerking finally ceased. The familiar settling sensation and quiet hum let Amy know that they had landed.

"Well," the Doctor started, straightening his bowtie. "There you have it. London. You'd think we were flying into a paradox with all the fuss she was kicking up." He clasped his hands, rubbing them in excitement. "Now then, where does one go to find water balloons?"

* * *

"I can't believe we are actually doing this," Amy announced half an hour later.

The Doctor lay on his stomach beside her, grinning as he surveyed the crowds below. They had set up camp on the roof of an old building, smack dab in the center of London. He grabbed the first water balloon from the full bucket between them, handing it to her. "Would you do the honors?"

Amy smirked in spite of herself, accepting the offered balloon and taking careful aim. "Geronimo."

The balloon whizzed to the ground, tumbling towards an unsuspecting businessman. It exploded upon its impact with the sidewalk in front of him, causing the man to jump back in fright as his pants were doused with an icy-cold spray. His head shot up as he cursed profusely, searching for the source of his misfortune.

The Doctor and Amy ducked back beneath the half-a-meter ledge running around the perimeter of the roof, trying to stifle their giggles. After a moment, Amy peeked over. Their victim spent a minute more yelling aimlessly at the sky, before picking up his dropped briefcase and stalking off.

"Oh. Oh, oh, oh, here we go." The Doctor grabbed a balloon, letting it fly. The next minute, an American tourist found herself soaked to the bone as a water balloon burst right over her head. She shrieked in surprise, jumping sideways into a crowd of commuting pedestrians.

"Oi!"

"Watch yourself!"

"Bloody tourists."

Their eyes widened as they watched the girl stumble through the indignant crowd, screaming all the while. "This reminds me of the time I met the Queen of Florida," the Doctor commented, staring at the girl intently.

"What? There is no Queen of Florida," Amy stated in confusion.

"Exactly," the Doctor answered absent-mindly, continuing to stare at the shivering tourist as she stomped down the street and out of sight. Amy waited for some sort of explanation, but after a couple minutes of silence she realized he wasn't planning on elaborating. She stared at him for a moment more, before shaking her head in bafflement and grabbing another water balloon.

* * *

"That man is _so_ picking everyone's pockets," Amy announced, pointing to a short man who seemed to have the worst balance in London. He was stumbling into every other person on the street, brushing off their jackets and apologizing profusely.

"Water balloon," the Doctor commanded, extending his hand.

"There's no way you can hit him," Amy pointed out. "He's halfway down the block and on the other side of the street!"

The Doctor rolled his shoulder, giving her his dorky, overconfident smirk. "Just you watch me."

She narrowed her eyes skeptically, but nevertheless handed him a hefty red balloon. The Doctor bounced his hand a couple of times, as if gauging the water balloon's weight. He then squinted, closing one eye as he targeted the pickpocket. In one fluid motion, he stood to his feet and whirled his arm like a softball player, sending the balloon whizzing through the air.

As if in slow motion, the balloon soared over the street and made a beeline for its target. "No way," Amy gasped, watching its progress. Just as the pickpocket was about to stumble into another gullible victim, the balloon smacked him right in the face. He fell to the ground under the force of the throw, water streaming everywhere.

"Ha _HA_!" The Doctor raised his hands in the air, whooping in triumph.

Amy quickly grabbed one of his arms, yanking him to the ground. "Shut up, you big idiot," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "You're gonna get us caught!"

He just grinned, grabbing another balloon.

Amy and the Doctor continued to lob the water balloons downwards, feeling like little kids as they giggled and reveled in the chaos their little water-filled projectiles caused below. The didn't have to think about running, about saving the universe; the only alien-related problem being if Time-Lord biology played a part in the Doctor's nearly impeccable aim. ("No, Amelia, it does not! How hard is it to believe that I just happen to be good at these things? You know, Randy Barnes himself once said...)

And as the Doctor grabbed one of the final balloons from the bucket, several hours later, he felt truly content for the first time in a _long_ time.

He should've known the lull wouldn't last.

"Oh! Get those two!" Amy exclaimed, pointing at a tall man in a trench coat and his red-headed lady friend. The Doctor peeked quickly over the ledge, before grinning and putting a finger to his lips. He gestured to the bucket—which while nearly void of balloons—was still halfway full of icy water.

Amy grinned, grabbing one side. The Doctor grabbed the other. "Ready?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Take aim," she announced, raising her voice.

"Now!" they both shouted, standing as one and dumping the contents on the couple below.

"OI!" the redhead yelled furiously, sputtering as she tried to shake off the chills.

"What?" the man exclaimed, his head darting in every direction possible. "What?!" he repeated.

Amy cracked up laughing, punching the Doctor in the arm. "That was brilliant! Oh, look at their faces!"

The Doctor followed Amy's advice and took a closer look at their faces. He then abruptly choked on his laugh, a strangled squeak emitting from his mouth. His eyes widened comically. _No way_.

"Doctor?" Amy asked, her own laugh subsiding at the shocked expression on his face. "You okay? What is it now?"

The Doctor didn't even hear her, staring dumbstruck at the whirling, furious duo below. At the textbook skinny frame, the gravity defying hair—at the fiery redhead, her loud shouts echoing as she yelled something about a martian…

And as the soaked man's gaze darted upwards, their eyes locked. The Doctor felt the connection, completing the man's thought—his own thought—in one, simple breath.

"What."

* * *

The Tenth Doctor was not having a normal day. There were no alien attacks, no running, no saving the universe….just himself and Donna popping around London, making fun of the current technology and munching on chips. And for him, that was _anything_ but normal.

'Was' being the opportune word.

"OI!"

The Doctor jumped in surprise at Donna's shout, a split second before a splash of icy water gushed down his frame. "What?" he sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of the attacking liquid. The attack ended as fast as it had began, leaving two freezing time-travelers soaked on the sidewalk. "What?!" the Doctor repeated, spinning in place. His gaze darted in every direction as he whipped out his sonic screwdriver in defense.

"Oh, it'll be fine, Donna! It's _London_! _Thanks_ for _nothing_, Martian boy!" Donna blustered with her usual gusto, shivering in the cold wind. "What, do you have a grudge match with a rain cloud now? Or no! It's an ancient life form wanting to take over the earth! Next thing you know, you'll be telling me that all rivers come from _Mars_!" she shouted, sarcasm dripping as thickly as her wet hair.

The Doctor stared at his screwdriver as a weird, buzzing noise began to emanate. He pointed it down, the noise fading. He pointed it up, and it grew louder. His eyes shot upwards, gaze quickly landing on a couple on the roof of the building above. A ginger headed girl—somewhere in her early twenties, was gripping a man's arm and staring at them. The (oddly familiar looking) man—that chin, blimey!—looked as though he was going to faint. Just as the Doctor opened his mouth, Chinny-boy voiced his exact thoughts. "What."

The Doctor looked down at his screwdriver, then back up at Ginger and Chinny. That buzzing, it meant…. "That's sonic technology," he exclaimed. "Those two have sonic technology on them!"

"What?" Donna followed his gaze to the couple above, rant momentarily forgotten. "How do you mean, sonic? Like that Adipose lady?"

"Exactly," the Doctor confirmed. He pointed his screwdriver at them, fiddling with the settings. "If I could just get a reading," he muttered.

"Doctor?"

"Hang on, Donna," he said, focusing solely on his screwdriver. "Almost got it…"

"Oi, Spaceman! _They're getting away_!"

"What?" His gaze shot up, just in time to see Chinny grab Ginger's wrist and pull her away from the edge of the roof with a final apprehensive glance. "Not on my watch!" he announced, flapping his coat for effect. "Allons-y!"

He took off running. Donna rolled her eyes, taking off after him. The duo ducked and dodged passing pedestrians, sprinting the sidewalk. The Doctor rounded the block, before making a 180-degree turn down a long alleyway running parallel to the sidewalk. Without so much of a pause, he took off in the direction they had just come from.

"C'mon, Donna!" he shouted back to his panting companion, picking up the pace. Finally, he slowed to a stop at the backside of an old, tall building—the same building their ambushers had been on top of.

"What…was…._that_?" Donna gasped, struggling to catch her breath. "We are exactly…. where we…..started!"

"Shush!" the Doctor commanded, semi-dried hair sticking up wildly. "We are _behind_ exactly where we started."

She opened her mouth to retort, but a loud thump made her pause. She looked for the source, following the Doctor's pointing finger to the top platform of the fire escape. Chinny had apparently fallen down the first of a dozen or so ladders connecting the platforms, and was now getting to his feet indignantly. Without a word, the Doctor yanked her beneath the bottommost landing of the fire escape, effectively shielding themselves from view.

After a minute or so, Donna shivered and crossed her arms in a vain attempt to preserve body heat. It hadn't been so bad when they had been running, but now that they were standing still, she was definitely feeling the aftereffects of being soaked. Blimey, it was cold!

"Shush," the Doctor commanded again, his finger in the air.

"I didn't say anything," Donna protested in a whisper.

"You're shivering. It's loud," he whispered back.

"My shivering is—oh I'm _sorry_! Next time we get attacked by arctic alien water, I'll just skip straight to hypothermia, would that help?!" she whisper-shouted. "I'm soaking, and it is freezing!"

The Doctor gave one more cautious glance upwards. Ginger and Chinny were still several stories up. He sighed. "Humans."

"Oi!"

With one more exaggerated sigh, he pulled out his sonic and changed a few settings. He then waved the blue light over them both, drying their clothes instantly. Donna snatched it from his grasp, holding down the button with one hand while going through her hair with the other.

"It's not a hair dryer!" The Doctor protested. Donna gave him a cheeky smirk, switching hands. He pouted, then crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. His eyes never left his precious screwdriver. After what felt like ages (but in reality was only a minute or so), Donna gave her hair a final fluff and dropped it into his outstretched hand.

Without skipping a beat, he pointed it straight up. There was a sudden clanging, and the ladder that connected the platform above them to the ground detached from the fire escape, crashing at their feet and leaving their assailants effectively trapped.

"Now then," the Doctor said with a bright grin. "Shall we?"

Donna took his arm, mirroring his cheery demeanor, and the pair of them stepped out of hiding and into plain view.

"Oi! You there! Can you give us a hand?" Ginger asked with a prominent Scottish accent, leaning over the railing of the lowest platform. "The ladder's busted!"

The Doctor donned a look of concern, squinting his eyes in faux confusion. "Oooo, is it? That's rather odd, isn't it?" He turned to Donna. "Is that odd?"

She nodded in affirmation. "Definitely odd."

They turned as one back to Ginger. "But you know what is even more odd," the Doctor said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Two people trapped on a fire escape—a private fire escape, mind you—who recently used some sort of alien liquid to terrorize two innocent Coppers."

"Coppers?" Chinny exclaimed incredulously as he joined Ginger at the railing.

The Doctor gave another wide grin, flashing his psychic paper. "Yup!" he declared exuberantly, popping the 'p.' "Detective Inspector John Smith, Scotland Yard. This is my partner, Penelope Clearwater."

Donna's eyebrows shot up. 'Penelope Clearwater?' she mouthed in bafflement, barely containing the urge to smack her alien dumbo upside the head. Ginger, meanwhile, gave them a strange look but seemed to accept their explanation. "Okaaaaay," she said, stretching out the word. "Amy Pond. Now are you gonna help us down or what?"

Donna set her hands on her hips. "Well, _Amy Pond_," she began, emphasizing her name. "First, I would like to know why the _heck_ you attacked us!"

Amy rolled her eyes. "It was _water_, you idiot. Can't you take a joke?"

"Water," the Doctor repeated skeptically. "Just normal, everyday, earth water."

"Yes! What else would it be? Now get me down!"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Was _he_ this rude? No wonder Donna was always slapping him! He complied nevertheless, picking up the ladder and leaning it against the landing. "Climb on down!" he called up, holding it steady.

Amy clambered down, straightening her miniskirt once her feet touched ground. The Doctor tilted his head back. "You coming, Chinny-boy?"

Chinny stared at him for a moment—before seeming to make up his mind. He then quickly made his way down the ladder, staring suspiciously at the Doctor all the while. Once he was safely on the ground, the Doctor turned his back on the group to lean the ladder against the building.

Once this was accomplished, the Doctor turned back to the gathering. He then nearly leapt out of his converse as Chinny—who he could've sworn had been several feet away—was now standing toe to toe with him. Without a word, the man extended a finger and poked the Doctor in the chest. The Doctor's eyebrows shot to his hairline as he rocked back on his heels, not resisting the slight push.

"No!" Chinny exclaimed, drawing back and beginning to pace. "No, no, nonono. No! _You_ can't be here!"

"Says the bloke trespassing on the flippin' roof!" Donna shot back.

The Doctor held up a hand in a placating manner. "I can handle this, Penelope." He then turned back to Chinny. "But she does have a point. You're one to talk! You've been trespassing on the flippin' roof!" he exclaimed, last sentence sounding remarkably similar to Donna's voice. She scoffed, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"But!" the Doctor announced, thrusting a finger in the air. "_That_ is not what I want to ask you about. I want to know why two people with sonic technology are resorting to attacking people with regular old, everyday, _water_. (Honestly, why would you do that?) I also must inform you that whatever plan you have for destroying this planet will ultimately be thwarted—_well_," he interrupted himself. "I say destroying the planet, but I really don't see how you could do that with water—_well_, I guess if you got enough of it you could—_well_—"

"Hang on," Amy said. "I thought you were with Scotland Yard?"

Without skipping a beat, the Doctor whipped out his psychic paper again. "So I did. We're part of the…err….E.T. department. Specialize in this sort of thing."

Chinny was still pacing. His jaw was working from side to side as he clasped and unclasped his hands, seeming to have ignored the entire exchange. "Why," he muttered, voice escalating. "Why, why, why, why?"

"What are you? A faulty record player?" Donna scoffed.

"No," Chinny said, finally coming to a stop in front of them. He fiddled with his ridiculous bowtie, and then rubbed his hands together. "You don't understand. This does not happen, this _can not_ happen. _You_ physically—historically—cannot be here! _I'm _here!"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows—and his hands—in defense. "I should probably mention that things don't always happen to me in the right order, so—"

Chinny let out a loud laugh. "Ha! I'll say!"

The Doctor squinted. "Now what's that supposed to mean? Who are you?"

Chinny's forced laughter stopped abruptly. "Ah! Yes! That's the question to ask! But never mind who I am, I'm leaving now. Come along, Pond."

Amy shot him a confused look as stepped to his side. The Doctor was having none of it, however, and quickly blocked their path. Donna came alongside him, crossing her arms.

"Now, now, hang on a tic. We still have a Great Big Problem," the Doctor announced, enunciating and emphasizing the last three words to convey the capitals. "You two still have some explaining to do. Namely, the sonic tech in your coat. This is a level 5 planet under my personal protection, and I'm not about to have you muck about the time streams with your futuristic technology all willy-nilly!" He furrowed his brow for a second, before leaning towards Donna. "Never let me say, 'willy nilly,' again," he muttered.

"Gladly," Donna nodded, still staring at Chinny and Amy.

"Mucking about time streams?" Chinny repeated incredulously, rounding on him again. "Oh, that's rich! That's just _fantastic_, coming from you of all people!"

The Doctor blinked at the word 'fantastic.' "Have we met?"

"NO!" Chinny exclaimed, arms flapping away once more. "That's just the point! I don't remember this!" Both Donna and Amy opened their mouths to intervene, but the two men's shouting made it impossible to get a word in edgewise.

"Remember _what_? Who are you?!" the Doctor asked, voice escalating with his frustration.

"Oh, as if you didn't know!" Chinny shot back irritably. "But why didn't she sense this when we landed? How did we land in the first place?" Chinny continued to monologue, raising his voice to compete with the Doctor's.

"Land? Land with _what_?!"

"_I'm_ here, not you! Me!"

"Right! Listen here, I demand to know _who you are!"_

"Doctor!" Amy finally yelled in exasperation, nearly screaming the word in order to be heard.

"_What?!_" Both men yelled simultaneously, rounding on her as one.

Donna's jaw dropped. "You are kidding me," she gasped.

The Tenth Doctor's eyes met the Eleventh's.

"What—Seriously?" Ten asked, frustration quickly giving way to a fine mixture of mingled confusion, curiosity, and surprised delight. "Nooooo…."

"Ah, _now_ he gets it—thanks for the help, Amelia. A bit slow, this one. Always worried about his hair," Eleven rambled, rocking on his toes.

Amy's gaze shot back and forth between the two Doctors. Finally, she took two long steps over to _her_ Doctor and gripped his tweed-clad arm. "Doctor. Explain. _Now._"

Donna finally regained control over her jaw, snapping her mouth shut and inching towards her own Doctor. "Agreed," she managed to utter.

Eleven and Ten exchanged looks. "You wanna take this one?" Eleven asked hopefully, easing himself out of Amy's grasp.

Ten raised his eyebrows, waving a hand. "Nah, have at it."

Eleven glared at him for a moment, before muttering, "I knew he would say that." He then took a deep breath, clasping his hands and turning to Amy and Donna. "Okay, listen up kids. Short version: there's this thing that a Timelord does when he's dying. Basically, he renews every cell in his body and heals himself. But, it also triggers a change within the body, causing the Timelord to outwardly assume a different appearance. It's a lottery, really. New hair, new body, new personality…"

"New chin," Ten added nonchalantly.

"Oi!"

"But same memories," Ten finished, tapping his head for emphasis. "New face, but same man up here."

Donna stared at the pair of them for a minute, struggling to take it all in. "Hang on," she said slowly. "So he…is you."

"Yup."

"After you died," Amy added.

"Pretty much," Eleven answered.

"So at any time, you—" Donna pointed at Ten—"could get shot and turn into Chinny over here."

Ten scratched his the back of his head. "Well, depends on what regeneration he is, but theoretically—"

Donna slapped him on the arm. Hard.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "What was _that_ for?!"

"It never crossed your _brilliant _mind to tell me this?! You could've died back there in The Library and turned into this guy," she gestured to Eleven, "and I would be freaking out! For all I would've known, you could have been teleported into that parallel universe thing!"

Amy looked at Eleven. "She does have a point," she said, slapping him. "Why didn't you tell me this? Is this what just happens? You're running away from who knows what, and all of the sudden your companion finds themselves with a brand new Doctor?"

The two Doctors exchanged glances, both remembering Rose. "Not…..usually…" Eleven finally ventured. "But on occasion…"

"Oh, brilliant!" Donna exclaimed in exasperation, hands tossed in the air at the futility of it all.

"Hey, he's not so bad," Ten attempted to reassure her. "You know, aside from the chin. And the complete lack of fashion sense—sorry, but am I wearing a bowtie?"

"Oh! Look at you! Nine-hundred years old, think you're so cool...For your information, Matchstick Man_,_ _bowties_ are _cool_," Eleven declared, straightening it for effect.

"Matchstick…honestly! First Donna, now you—" Ten turned towards Amy. "Am I really _that_ skinny?"

Amy gave him a once over. "Matchstick may be stretching it a bit," she announced.

"Thank you!" Ten exclaimed.

"Toothpick, on the other hand…" she continued thoughtfully.

"Ooo, I like you," Donna commented. Amy shot her a grin. Ten rolled his eyes and tried to change the subject. "So, which regeneration are you, then?" he asked the other Doctor. "Eleven or Twelve?"

"Eleven," Eleven confirmed, before squinting in confusion. "Wait, no. Twelve. Wait—oh, I don't know, you screwed it all up."

"What do you mean, 'I don't know?!'" Ten exclaimed. "There's only two options!"

Eleven shook his head with a slight smirk. "Things get…complicated. Bit timey-wimey, very wibbly-wobbly. It's all very confusing, just you wait."

"Hang on, rewind," Donna interrupted, finger in the air. "Are you telling me that there are _twelve_ of you running around?" she asked incredulously.

"That's a scary thought," Amy muttered, crossing her arms.

"_Well_, we don't usually meet up. Actively avoid it, actually," Ten explained.

"Exactly. The paradox is unbelievable messy—could cause the universe to explode," Eleven said.

"What?!" Donna exclaimed at the same time that Amy asked, "Then what the heck are we doing here?!"

"My question exactly," Ten said, running his fingers through his hair. "It's not my fault, you two are the future crew. You, Doctor, should remember this, but you obviously don't. Why?"

Eleven rubbed his temples. "I've been asking myself that ever since I saw you, but the only explanation I can think of is that one of us blocked the memory. But why would I do that?"

"Hang on...The universe would explode if two of you met up, is that what you said earlier?" Donna asked. "Then why hasn't it yet? We've been chatting for a good half-hour, and nothing has happened."

Both Doctors stopped and stared at her intensely, causing her to raise her hands in defense. "Oi! Don't space-stare me, I was just asking! Not my problem that I can't come up with some huge, Martian explanation like you two can!"

"No, no, Donna," Eleven murmured. "That's—"

"Brilliant," Ten finished for him. "That is an absolutely brilliant point!"

"Seriously?" Amy asked. "I mean, we _are _standing here. I would've thought that bit was rather obvious. No offense, Donna," she clarified.

"None taken," Donna assured her.

"Don't you see it, though?" Eleven asked. "The universe _hasn't _exploded yet! Which means…"

"Something big happens," Ten interrupted again. "Something that the universe—"

"Needs two of us to fix," Eleven finished.

"Okay, that's getting a bit creepy," Donna murmured to Amy, who stifled a giggle. The two Doctors were acting like proper twins, finishing each other's sentences without even realizing it. "Do you think they even realize they're doing it?" Amy murmured back.

"Doing what?" both Doctors asked simultaneously.

"Not a clue," Donna announced, answering Amy's question. "All of time and space, and we both get stuck with the dumbest genius in the galaxy."

Amy and Donna laughed outright, while the two Doctors continued to look perplexed. "What's so funny?" Eleven asked. The look of genuine confusion on his face just caused them to laugh harder. "I hate it when they do this," Ten muttered, remembering Sarah Jane and Rose doing something remarkably similar. Apparently, Eleven was thinking something along the same lines, and they shared a brief, nostalgic smile.

However, after a few minutes of high-pitched whispers and ensuing fits of laughter, Eleven had had enough. "Look, ladies, I'm thrilled that you're getting on so well. Really, I am. But as my matchstick of a former self so kindly pointed out, something Big and Bad is about to happen, and—"

The Doctor's sentence was interrupted (or punctuated, depending on how you look at it) by a deafening _POP! _sounding from above.

A concussion rippled through the air, shattering windows on impact and causing the foursome to stagger.

"_What_ was _that?_" Donna asked, head angled to the sky along with the rest of London. A huge, silver ship came into view, gleaming in the sunlight. It shot through the air, belching smoke from its side. "You sure you don't remember this?" Ten asked nervously, eyes shooting between the spaceship and the other Doctor.

"It's not slowing down," Eleven murmured worriedly, ignoring Ten's question."It's gonna crash!" Amy gasped, following its progress downwards.

The ground suddenly shook with a distant _boom_, the shockwave of the ship hitting Earth. Smoke began to rise over the London skyline, bellowing from the point of impact. Sirens were already starting up all over the city, the emergency services rushing to the crash sight.

"Do you know who the ship belon—Doctor?" Amy cut off her question, and her head whipped around. Her gaze finally landed on two figures sprinting down the alleyway, sonic screwdrivers outstretched.

Her eyes then found Donna, who was rolling her own eyes in exasperation. "_And_ he's off again," she announced in resignation. Amy gave the slightly older woman a sidelong glance. "We are going to follow them, right?"

Donna pulled a face. "Two Doctors—and an Alien crash in the middle of London."

Without another second of hesitation, the two girls took off running after their Doctors—mixed calls of "Allons-y!" and "Geronimo!" ringing through the street.

_-TBC-_


	2. Part 2

_So, I'm about 2 years late. Err, sorry? Pesky real life._

_I have no idea if anyone is even still interested in this fic (Ten's era was quite a bit ago) but if you happen to stumble upon it, enjoy! And review?_

PSA: if anyone has been following this from the beginning (I salute you) you'll notice that I deleted the 'Interlude' and just combined it with this new chapter. So if the first couple paragraphs sound familiar, blame my OCD.

_Without further ado..._

* * *

**"Wibbly-Wobbly Water Balloons" (Part 2)**

Captain Jack Harkness strode down a (surprisingly) sparse sidewalk somewhere in London, shaking his head in annoyance. _What am I even doing here? _He asked himself.

He knew the answer, of course. He was here because of a mysterious voicemail left to his phone—mysterious because the phone had not rung beforehand. Jack had just been driving up to the Hub, having spent an all-nighter chasing down a very familiar blowfish in a convertible (according to Gwen, this was a regular occurrence). He had picked up his phone to look at the time (9 in the morning), and lo and behold, one new voicemail. Jack sighed as he replayed it in his head.

_"__Greetings, Earthling! No, wait; hang on. Way too cliché. Ehm, right. Anyways, Jack! Captain Jack Harkness, the 23__rd__ of May, I believe. 2008? Yes? Yes, okay, there's been an…attack! Yes, an attack. Love an attack. Big, alien-y, Torchwood-y sighting that absolutely requires your personal attention. Damsels in distress, cats stuck in trees, SOS, GTG, TTYL—look, point is, you need to be in London around…noonish. Don't worry about anything else, just follow the gigantic doomsday column of smoke and burning fuel cells. Right! Amy, how do you turn this prehistoric thing off?"_

The message had cut off there. So without much choice, Jack found himself making a complete U-turn and driving 3 hours through a seriously insane amount of traffic to get to London. And now here he was, walking around aimlessly with absolutely no idea what he was doing. Nearly an hour of wandering around, and nothing. No smoke, no aliens, definitely no damsels in distress—all one great big wild goose chase. Absolutely—

_Pop!_ Jack's head shot to the sky as a powerful sonic wave ripped through the atmosphere. Windows shattered all around him as he staggered, eyes glued to the massive spaceship flying through the sky.

It took 5 seconds for Jack to realize that the ship was not actually flying—it was crashing.

It took another 5 seconds to realize that the ship was hurtling straight towards him—fast.

As it barreled down on him, looming larger by the second, Jack had no time to do anything but roll his eyes. "Oh, sh—"

A white hot pain, a deafening roar, and the world went black.

* * *

Jack awoke with the usual gasp, retching as an acrid taste coated his tongue. He could barely move under the wreckage pinning him to the ground—a pile of mangled metal and crumbling drywall. After several minutes of wriggling, he managed to get his arms free. Another several minutes (and quite a few curses) and he was able to shove off the rest of the debris.

He got to his feet, coughing and staggering from vertigo. When he was able to stand without falling over, he took stock of his surroundings. Luckily, he had been caught near the edge of the crash. The main portion of the ship had buried itself in the shops lining the sidewalk; an enormous, twisted, charred heap of wreckage smoking beneath the rubble of the former building.

Sirens wailed through the air, growing closer by the second. Jack began a reluctant retreat, heading down the street and away from the scene. There was no point in hanging around—not right now, anyways. He did not feel like attempting to explain how he managed to survive a head on collision with a spaceship, nor did he want the authorities to mistake him for an alien. So, Jack rounded the street corner and took a long, convoluted, completely out of his way route—his final destination being the opposite side of the crash.

When he finally arrived, (a full half hour later, thank you very much), he was surprised to find police barriers already erected; keeping the swelling crowed nearly 2 blocks away from the crash site. Fire trucks, paramedics, and policemen were set up closer to the debris, evacuating the last of the survivors and keeping the occasional overly-zealous citizen from hopping the barrier.

Jack fished around the pockets of his torn jacket, pulling out his Torchwood ID. It would surely be enough to grant him access—no questions asked. He could clear the area and perform an initial inspection in peace. Depending on how that went, he would probably need to call up his team…

"Hello! Yes! I am…Captain Jack Harkness!"

Jack's head whipped around at the sound of his name. The voice (overly cheery and vaguely familiar) came from the edge of the barrier, where a tall man was trying to gain access for his group of four. He flapped a piece of paper in an officer's face, still rambling on. "Leader of Torchwood, I am. That gives me jurisdiction, right? Rather high up. Anyways, this here is my partner Amelia—"

He gestured to a slender ginger beside him, who in turn waved. "Hello!"

"And we're with Scotland Yard," a _very_ familiar voice chimed in. "Detective Inspector John Smith and my partner, Penelope Clearwater."

Jack's mouth dropped open. There was no mistaking that spiky hair.

"Now hang on a second," the officer said skeptically. "_I'm_ from Scotland Yard, and I sure as hell have never seen you before."

"_Well_, that's because we're a part of the E.T. department! Aren't we, Penelope?" 'John Smith' continued, nudging the (other) red head of the group.

"Oh, yes!" she agreed enthusiastically. "Very top secret, super hush-hush."

Jack finally overcame his shock and forced his feet into action. "Doctor?!" he exclaimed, pushing through the crowd.

'John's'—actually, the Doctor's—head shot up, while Jack's impersonator held out his hands in delight. "Jack!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Jack as he drew near. He suddenly let go and backpedaled a couple paces, shuddering slightly. "Jaaack," he said again, his voice sounding much less enthusiastic. "Fact. Right. Forgot about that," he muttered under his breath. The Doctor inexplicably patted him on the shoulder, wincing in...was that sympathy?

Meanwhile, the police officer furrowed a brow. "Wait, who's this guy?" he asked in confusion, gesturing at Jack. "I thought you—" he pointed at the impersonator—"were Jack!"

The impersonator's eyes widened. "Oh, no, you see,"

"Jacks United," the Doctor randomly spouted. Jack smacked himself in the forehead. "There's a group of…Jacks…that run Torchwood. Quite confusing, to be honest, but it makes great fun at parties. Or confusion. Depends on who's Jack."

The officer (Jack checked his nametag—Detective Lestrade) gave them a skeptical glare. "What exactly do you take me for?"

Before any of them could reply, another officer walked up and tapped Lestrade on the shoulder. "Their paper checks out. It's Torchwood. There were no more bodies found in the wreckage, we have orders to clear out."

Lestrade gave them one last, long glance, before stepping back. "I guess it's all yours," he said with a sweeping arm, before turning to the rest of the police personnel. "Donovan, you're on crowd control. The rest of you, pack it up! Apparently, it's not our division…"

The voice faded off as Jack followed the foursome under the police tape. He quickened his pace, falling in step with the Doctor. "Doctor, what are you doing here? Do you know whose ship crashed? And where's Martha? Who are they?" The questions all came bubbling out at once.

The Doctor gave him a sidelong glance. "Where are you, exactly?"

Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. "London?" he finally answered.

The impersonator slowed his pace, joining the conversation. "No, he means in your timestream," he clarified. "What has recently happened in your life?"

Jack nodded in understanding. "Time travel, gotta love it. Speaking of, it's been about a month since the whole fiasco with the Master—that crappy year that got erased from time. Well, for me at least. Have you done that yet?"

The Doctor whistled through pursed lips. "Been a couple years for me. Right! Lots to explain, short walk to do it in."

"Okay, shoot," Jack said.

"First off, introductions! Jack Harkness, meet Donna Noble and Amy Pond," he said, gesturing to the corresponding redheads in turn. "Oh! And Martha is good. She's actually engaged to someone, working with UNIT, I believe. But yeah, she's fine. She's good. Really…good." He quickly changed the subject, turning to the impersonator. "And this"—he paused dramatically—"is me."

Jack stopped dead, eyes widening. "What?"

"Eleventh regeneration," the imperson—the Eleventh Doctor said with a wave, stopping next to him. "Pleasure to see you again, Captain."

"Two Doctors." Jack stated, trying to comprehend it.

"Yep," the Tenth Doctor said, popping the 'p.'

After a period of silence, Jack slowly began to shake his head. A grin spread on his face. "I can't tell you what I'm thinking right now," he said, eyebrows waggling.

"Oh, stop it!" both Doctors said simultaneously.

"They're doing it again," Amy murmured.

"Do they do that a lot?" Jack asked, bemused.

"No!" both Doctors responded, before glaring at each other. Ten ran his fingers through his hair, and Eleven straightened his bowtie.

Donna rolled her eyes and stepped in before things could escalate. "Oi! Spacemen!" she scolded, stopping in between the two and placing a hand on each chest. "Crashed spaceship, remember? Universe dialing 999?"

Ten finally broke the stare-down, shoving his hands in his pockets as he wordlessly resumed the trek to the wreckage. The others traded glances and shrugged, following in his wake. However, the silence didn't last long.

"Honestly, though, do you ever stop and think?" Ten asked rhetorically, slowing his pace to match the others. "Why London? Every time, every alien—always London!"

"Or Cardiff," Jack offered.

"Well, yeah," Ten agreed, tilting his head. "But that's only because Cardiff is built on a _rift_ in _Time_. London, on the other hand, has nothing. Nothing, that is, to make it more of a target than, say, Manhattan. Or Shanghai. Or Berlin. Dubai, Los Angeles, Rio de Janeiro, Sydney, _Barcelona_—all the same basic 21st century Earth city appeal, and yet London is always the one attacked! What's with that?"

"Forgot about that gob of his," Eleven muttered.

Donna had to stifle a snort of amusement.

"See! Look at this!" Ten exclaimed indignantly, halting just in front of the demolition. The ship had rammed straight into the buildings lining the sidewalk, a semi-intact metal capsule supporting the crumbling drywall. Twisted metal sheets and bars littered the cracked pavement alongside huge chunks of cement, constructing a maze of wreckage and destruction that encompassed the whole of the block.

"Perfectly good shops—ruined. Barcelona has shops, but they're still in tip-top shape I'd wager. _Well, _least they will be until the early 25th century. Ish. But as for right now they're still intact! They aren't the ones reduced to rubble-y rubble by the—" Ten paused, crouching and peering intently at a stray piece of charred metal.

"By the…?" Amy repeated, raising an eyebrow in question.

Ten picked up the piece of metal and sniffed it, squinting in concentration.

Eleven put a hand to his eyes. "Oh, please don't—"

The warning came too late. Ten (to the intense disgust of all) _licked_ it.

"Oh," Amy gasped, wrinkling her nose. Even Jack looked a bit nauseated.

"Like a toddler, you are!" Donna scolded, shaking her head in dismay. "Did that even do anything?"

"Actually, no," Ten answered reluctantly. He furrowed his brow, sticking his tongue out in displeasure. "Bleh!"

Donna rolled her eyes, sighing.

"_Okay then_," Jack said, raising his eyebrows and changing the subject. "Doctors, split up and search the area. We are looking for bodies, communication devices—anything that can tell us who these aliens are and what they want."

Donna and Amy exchanged glances, both feeling slightly out of their element. "What about us?" Amy asked.

"Come along, Pond," Eleven said, waving an arm in Amy's direction as he began to pick his way to the other side of the crash site. Amy gave Donna a quick shrug, stepping quickly to catch up with him.

Donna turned around, intending to follow _her_ Doctor. Not seeing him, she turned again. And again.

Apparently, Ten and Jack had wandered deeper into the wreckage. Without her.

And when she turned again, she found that Eleven and Amy had already disappeared from sight. Without her.

Well, wasn't that just_ wizard_.

* * *

Donna picked her way around twisted metal and chunks of drywall, muttering under her breath about stupid alien attention spans. She ducked underneath a charred metallic sheet, and her surroundings suddenly darkened as the sunlight was blocked out. She squinted as her vision adjusted to the darkness, and her eyes roved around the dim hallway. Somehow, she had found herself inside the crashed ship.

Slowly, cautiously, she crept forwards, heading towards a faint blue glow emanating from another doorway. The sound of crunching glass accompanied her footsteps as she peeked through the door.

The flickering blue light illuminated a large room that at one point could have served as a flight deck. "Where are all the bodies?" she murmured in confusion. A ship this size, it had to have had a crew.

"The escape pod is missing," Eleven's voice, rather muffled, filtered into Donna's range of hearing.

"Are you telling me that there is a random gang of aliens wandering around London?" Amy's voice questioned sharply.

Donna ventured further into the demolished flight deck, skirting the sparking wires while keeping one ear tuned to the conversation outside.

"Oi! I'm an alien," Eleven pointed out.

"That's completely different," Amy said. "You _look _human."

"No, you look Timelord," Eleven insisted.

Donna's foot skidded on something slick, causing her to topple backwards with a squeak. She threw her arms out, her hand swiping the nearest control console as she tried to stop her fall. The only thing she managed to accomplish was to hit a big button, and she landed on her buttocks with a winded 'Oomph!'

The smashed console sputtered to life, humming harshly as a grainy blue projection materialized. As the blue particles congealed into a discernible shape, Donna's eyes widened.

"Doctor!"

Donna heard a cacophony of footsteps echo through the ship, and Ten and Jack skidded to a halt just inside the room. Eleven and Amy were right behind them. All eyes were automatically drawn to the blue hologram in the center of the room, the reason behind Donna's call.

"Oh, not again," Jack moaned, rolling his eyes.

"How is that even possible?" Eleven wondered out loud. "I thought Sarah Jane took care of the ones we missed!"

"Sarah Jane did what?" Ten asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"Oi!" Amy interrupted, eyes staying glued to the projection. "Somebody tell me what the heck you're on about."

"And _what _is_ that,_" Donna added, over-enunciating each word, still sitting on the floor where she fell.

"That," Eleven announced with a scowl, finger extended at the projected image, "is Slitheen."

* * *

"Raxa-coraf—no—Raxa—Raxa-corico-fal-norious?"

"Raxacoricofallapatorious," Ten corrected Donna patiently.

"Raxo-corico-pallo-minorious," she tried again.

"Not _minourious_. Raxacoricofallapatorious."

"Raxa-corico-dalla-matorious."

"It really shouldn't be this difficult."

"Hey! Doctor," Jack waved, getting Ten's attention. "Forget pronouncing it, what are we going to do about this?"

The group had left the wreckage area, opting to walk around London as they tried to come up with a plan. Although chances were slim that they'd just run into one on the streets, it was worth a shot.

"First question," Eleven picked up his pace, walking in front of the group and then turning so that he faced them all. He held a finger out as if he were a teacher. "Do they have skin suits?"

"Skin…suits?" Amy repeated, eyes widening.

"Yep," Ten answered. "Kill a human, wear the skin as a disguise. It's pretty realistic, they look human while wearing them. Well, an overweight human, anyways. Also causes quite a bit of flatulence, makes them smell real funny…"

"Right, I get the picture," Amy stopped him there.

"But what are they doing here?" Donna asked.

"Donna!" Eleven exclaimed, grinning. "That is question number 2! They could be doing a number of things. Last time they wanted to blow up the planet, and the time before that, they took over Downing Street!"

"Oh my gosh, I remember that," Amy said. "Spaceship crashed into Big Ben, right?"

Eleven nodded.

"I remember my gramps going on about that a couple weeks later," Donna chimed in.

"What, you weren't watching it?" Amy asked incredulously. "It was all over the telly!"

"I was on holiday in America," Donna said.

"…they have tellies in America," Eleven pointed out.

"Florida. Do you know how much the hotels charge for cable there? It's ridiculous! I went right down to reception, I told them, 'I'm not having any of that nonsense!' Didn't hear any news, much less about Big Ben, until I got back."

"Again with the big picture, Donna," Ten said in exasperation. "What is it with you?"

"Oi, watch it Spaceman!" A grin ruined any effect Donna's frosty tone would have, but that didn't stop Ten from shooting back a sharp retort with a grin of his own.

As the duo bickered incessantly, a sad sort of smile graced Eleven's face. Amy gave him a quizzical look, and was about to call him out on it. However, as her eyes traced a singular tear track making its way down his face, she bit back her questions.

'Now is not the time,' she thought to herself, even as Eleven swiped away the tear and plastered a grin on his face, jumping into the conversation as if nothing had happened. She'd ask him about it later, when they had a moment to themselves. Until then—

"Umph!"

Amy's train of thought was derailed as Ten stumbled with a low grunt. Donna stopped mid-sentence and gripped his arm, trying to keep him upright. "Doctor?" she asked in surprise, the others echoing her concern.

Ten made it to the nearest support structure (being the windowed front of a bakery shop), leaning against it and gripping his head with both hands. His eyes were tightly closed, his face contorted in a wince.

Eleven gently pushed Donna away and touched Ten's shoulder. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

Ten didn't give any indication that he had heard him, biting his lip in obvious pain as his fingers pushed against his temples.

A couple pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped in curiosity, but Jack quickly managed to convince them all to move along before returning his attention to the scene.

Finally, Ten's eyes popped open with a gasp. "TARDIS," he breathed, barely a whisper.

"What about it?" Donna asked. But Eleven's eyes widened in understanding. "Someone's broken into his TARDIS."

"Not someone," Ten said, voice already getting stronger. "Slitheen. She was trying to warn me, but they're somehow interfering with her telepathic circuits." He rubbed his head absently. "Must be why it hurt so much," he added.

"I thought no one could break into the TARDIS," Amy said, eyes narrowing. "Not unless they have a key."

"They can't," Eleven agreed, as Ten levered himself up away from the window. "Which is why I am very confused. How could they have gotten in? It simply does not happen."

"Unless…" Ten murmured, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a key. "TARDIS keys. Everyone in this group should have one. Show me, now."

Four of them dug into their pockets, and three of them produced keys. All eyes turned to Jack, who was frantically feeling all of his pockets. He growled a string of expletives under his breath. "I don't understand," he finally announced, slightly panicked. "I had it this morning!"

"Jack, this is important." Ten's deceptively calm voice did nothing to soften the intensity of his stare. "Everything depends on you right now. What exactly have you been doing today?"

"Literally nothing!" Jack exclaimed, not bothering to hide his agitation. "All I've done is wander around London searching for you people!"

Suddenly, Amy remembered something. "Doctor, the pickpocket! The one we targeted with a water balloon. Could he have been a Slitheen in one of those skin-suit things?"

Eleven fiddled with his fingers, thinking. "He was a bit on the short side, but was definitely thick enough…"

Amy turned, grabbing Jack's arm. "Jack, did a short man run into you on the sidewalk earlier today?"

Jack's eyes widened. "Come to think of it, yeah. Some guy ran right into me. I would've fallen on my face if he hadn't caught me…" He trailed off with a curse. "Damn Slitheen pick-pocketed me!"

Ten had already taken off running. "We have to get back to my TARDIS before they figure out how to take off!"

Donna heaved a sigh and took up the rear. "And back to running."

* * *

"No, no, nononononono!" Ten lengthened his stride as a familiar wheezing sound echoed across the alleyway. As the TARDIS's shape began to dematerialize, Ten lunged for the door in a last-ditch attempt to save it.

However, he was a second too late. His fingers barely managed to brush the wood before it disappeared completely, and his momentum carried him straight into the brick wall. He groaned and rubbed his head, turning his back to the wall as he slowly sunk to the ground.

Jack rounded the final corner, with Eleven, Amy, and Donna not far behind. They stopped short at the sight of Ten sitting dejectedly against the wall, raking his fingers through his sweaty hair. "She's gone," he announced in defeat. "They have her."

"So, now what?" Donna asked, panting heavily. "Is there some way to track it?"

"How can the Slitheen drive a TARDIS to begin with?" Jack questioned.

"Margaret the Slitheen knew quite a bit about the TARDIS back in the day," Eleven pointed out.

"The Slitheen's name was _Margaret?_" Amy asked in disbelief.

As the three of them debated the complexities of alien naming rituals, Donna made her way over to Ten. He had made no attempt to get up or join the unfolding conversation, rather, he had been staring into space with a look of intense concentration.

"Oi, spaceman," she called, extending a hand. Warmth, not venom, flavored her tone. Ten's concentration broke, and his gaze rose to meet hers.

"You alright?" She asked. She already knew the answer—a blind man could see that he was far from okay. But the question had become somewhat of a comfort between the two of them, and sure enough, he took her proffered hand and allowed her to hoist him to his feet.

"I'm always alright," he answered predictably, attempting a smile. It turned out as more of a grimace.

"Hey," Donna softened her tone even further. "It's going to be alright. The other Doctor is here too; I'm sure that between the two of you—"

"OH!" Ten exclaimed with a sudden intensity that forced Donna to jump back. Gone was the motionless dejection, in its place was a whirlwind. "I am _thick! _Thickity-think-thick…"

Ten's sudden rejuvenation caught everyone's attention. He wheeled on Donna. "You!"

Donna's eyes were wide. "What did _I _do?"

"Back when we had just met this lot, you pointed out that there should be a massive paradox effect going on, right? Two Doctors, and now Jack, so even more so! But! There isn't."

"Of _course!_" Eleven exclaimed just as Amy asked, "there isn't _what?_"

"The universe, the universe needs two Doctors, of course!" Eleven rambled, obviously catching Ten's drift.

"Hey! Doctors, speak English," Jack reminded, clearly bemused.

"Two Doctors," Ten started.

"Two TARDISes," Eleven finished.

"The Slitheen were always going to steal my TARDIS. That's a fixed point—apparently."

"But the universe is clever—so clever, in fact, that it created a way for us to stop them. The paradox that allowed Amy and I to show up at the same time as Skinny Boy and Donna also meant that we'd have an extra TARDIS on hand. We simply hop into _my_ TARDIS and land her in _his_ TARDIS, and then defeat the Slitheen from the inside out!"

"Molto bene!"

The three non-doctors blinked in varying degrees of confusion.

"So, we are going to take the paradox that is causing us all to meet…and make it bigger," Jack finally summarized.

_"__Well,_" Ten started.

"Exactly," Eleven interjected.

"My brain hurts," Amy moaned.

_-TBC-_


End file.
